The Thousand Yard Stare
by velveteenspirit
Summary: Or 5 times one of the Avengers saw a gap in Tony's mask and 1 time they didn't. The Avengers realise they don't know Tony Stark as well as they thought they did. Tony-centric Angst. Contains all the MCU Avengers. 300 favourites
1. Chapter 1 - Natasha

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NATASHA

Natasha reads people. That's her job. And there is no one in the world on an equal scale, not even Barton. She takes no pride from it, it just is. The slightest tell could give her all the information she needed to complete a mission, to slowly chip away at that huge mountain of red in her ledger. The most subtle of twitches gave her the location of an underground terrorist organisation, a minuscule change in breath was the key to which mole had infiltrated a SHIELD compound, and the blank stare of a teammate, well. That was an entirely different matter.

Sometimes, Natasha lays in bed at night, lying above the duvet, wondering just how dead she really is that she has no tells anymore. Training and discipline and desperation does things to a person, but what it did to Natasha, raised on it, damaged her to an extent she nor anyone else cannot fathom. Sometimes she wonders how much of her is left. Sometimes she is too scared to acknowledge that she already knows the answer.

And sometimes, on nights like those, when sleep evades her like warmth did on harsh Siberian nights, she is restless. Living in the city, in such an ostentatious, obvious target, sets the agent's hair on end. She is a predator, always has been, but now acts as prey out in the open, It's unnatural and she _hates _it. And yet, the tower is the only place she has ever felt she can call anything resembling a home. It's for this reason that instead of the usual heavy gear she would put on to move around, she remains in comfortable clothes and barefoot, with room to hide only 2 weapons, which is even more unnatural. But as she has so often been reminded, she is a weapon also, so she continues.

Silently as ever, she walks to the communal kitchen to get a glass of water, or a distraction, or _anything_ to fend off the red red RED RED **RED** that follows her wherever she goes. In the city that never sleeps, it will never truly be silent, she knows, but up here, above every other skyscraper around, there is a shield, a peaceful barrier. Romanoff knows that Stark knew about that, and did it completely on purpose. She doesn't mention it.

But she does tense minutely as she sees his still form sitting on a sofa overlooking the cityscape. The man who never keeps quiet, annoys his teammates with his moving, his talking, his vivaciousness, is entirely still. He is not dead, however. She picked up on his steady breathing immediately. But trained as she is, the lack of tells he is portraying is the biggest tell of all. She wanders over to the sink, exercising the epitome of comfort and ease, watching him like Hawkeye would. He does not react. She files it into her memory bank. She makes extra noise, is clumsy to evoke response. He still does not react.

"Stark?" It is quiet, but she has calculated the distance. He should hear her.

Water drunk between breaths (Natasha has learned that lesson the hard way - a knife to the jugular as she drank wine normally), she rounds the kitchen table and stands across from Stark.

He does not react.

She tilts her head in curiosity, knowing Stark's threshold. In a normal situation, he would have made a joke or lewd comment by now at Natasha's obvious vulnerability. And he is not the only smart one in the building - she is already calculating which poisons or weapons cause paralysis, what magic may have caused this change, and is considering alerting one of the others, when-

"Agent Romanoff, there is no need to alert any of the other Avengers of the current situation."

She is not surprised. She did not jump. JARVIS' voice was one she would not get used to, however.

"Is he…alright?" It's an odd question for her to ask because this is Tony Stark, the spectrum of alright does not apply.

"Sir is…" and she _is_ surprised at the hesitance in the AI's voice. "This is not an entirely unusual occurrence for Sir. It is, however, the first time one of his teammates has come across him in this state. I fear he will not appreciate it."

"What 'state', Jarvis? Is it something to do with his reactor? Does he need to…reboot?"

JARVIS chuckled dryly and almost wearily at that.

"No, Agent. Sir is no computer. Sometimes I wish he was. He is the most human of all, I fear."

"So what's wrong?" She had an idea, but confirming the fact from someone (and yes, the concern JARVIS has shown only strengthens the idea that he is a someone) so close to Stark, to Tony, is invaluable.

"It is, as you have already assumed, a side-effect of his…PTSD. It is perhaps the worst, in my humble opinion. Look at his eyes, Agent Romanoff."

She did, because she didn't know what else to do. And now she feels like an amateur for not doing so earlier. In the military, in SHIELD, the term 'the thousand yard stare' is used loosely. A shitty mission had guys a bit…shocked, shall she say, but if ever the term fit, it was right here in the Avengers Tower, and right now, in Tony Stark's eyes. His face muscles, completely lax, highlighted the starkness (and isn't that ironic) of the tension in his dark brown eyes. A storm was in full swing behind them and every emotion he had was displayed for all to see, and he had no choice in the matter. It was horrifying. Not even in her darkest day had she seen a soldier or civilian so completely _broken._ It's with a matching horror that she realises her mistake. All those tells so very obvious on the billionaire's face, are put there specifically for her, or Barton, or anyone who may see more than they should. She doesn't know who Stark is at all, and it scares her. She has not got this wrong before. She called herself intelligent. She is nothing. Not compared to Anthony Stark.

"You see, Agent Romanoff, you may have seen horrors no other should. But you were trained to. Sir has not been afforded such…luxuries. Nor does he feel he deserves any. Sir created myself, a fully cognisant machine, undoubtedly the best design of our time, if I may say so. And yet, his greatest creation is his own mask. More scratch proof than the Iron Man mask, and twice as impenetrable.

So you see, Agent…Natasha. Sir is better at hiding than anyone. I say this only because I know he cannot hear me, for the thought would hurt him immeasurably, and if it is possible to do so, I hate myself for considering the thought but…Tony Stark is a good man, and yet… I can't help but think had he not been punished so much in his life…he could've been an even greater one."

She can feel the regret, and truth in his words. She, despite her classification, has not been give full disclosure on Stark's full past, only because Stark is the only person who knows it. And yet the potential that has been burned and stripped away from the little she does know is almost tangible, and it's heartbreaking.

"I don't know, JARVIS. You may be right. But if he is only good, where do mere mortals stand?" Where does she stand?

The AI humours her by not replying, giving her the peace she needs to mull this new facet over at every angle. She does not understand, but she must.

So she sits down on the floor cross-legged, and watches. Nothing changes, and everything changes. The sun is beginning to tint the sky red in the early morning, a time of day she has always hated. The way blood seeps through snow is too similar. It is an innumerable amount of time before Tony blinks several times, shocks himself, and - now that she knows - puts together each shattered part of his mind like the mechanic he is.

And then he notices Natasha. And the shutters in his eyes clamp down so violently, she flinches. Agent Romanoff, trained from childhood not to react, flinches. And then the facade is raised, and he smiles easily, glitter in those so recently empty eyes.

"Hey there, Natasha, stare at people while they sleep often, do you?" he asks, as he walks towards the coffee maker with his trademark swagger and hums a carefree tune.

He knows she knows he wasn't sleeping. She doesn't mention it.

He does not react.


	2. Chapter 2 - Thor

Thank you for the kind and unexpected response to the first chapter. Next up is Thor just because it was requested. It would mean an awful lot if you would review this, tell me how I did and what to do better next time, and if you enjoy it, a favourite would be great too. Oh, and tell me who you'd like next. Thank you very much for reading this and enjoy!

THOR

Thor Odinson was still a young being in his home world. And yet, here on Earth, he felt old and weary compared to his fellow Avenger warriors. The follies in which his young compatriots were involved in seemed so little or 'petty' as he had previously called them. And yet, those he knew and cherished seemed to suffer so greatly, go through such pain that he was reminded too often of his wayward brother. Not that he would ever voice this view; the scars left by Loki had only made the Avengers suffer even more. And he would always feel guilty for that.

So on late nights such as these, when nothing would quell the ancient weariness that made him miss his younger days, Thor would find comfort wherever he could. On Midgard, everything seemed so alien to him, so strange, and his Jane was one of the only anchors. But alone as he is, he walks around the building Stark built, magnificent and modern amongst the high buildings, and aches for normality, for something he may recognise. And without a thought, he is on the roof.

He can taste the charged electricity in the air, gravitating to him. It tastes like earth and sky and every other element, and he loves it. It's like stepping out of a smoky room into the freshest of air.

He closes his eyes as the doors swish behind him, and steps into the darkness. He knows he should be sleeping, or training, but it's impossible to walk away from an opportunity such as this. He would yield Mjölnir and bring lightning down from the heavens if not for the consequences. He has learned the hard way, when half of the vast city of New York was plunged into darkness and Stark was running around like a headless beast in panic that an unexpected lightning storm was not, in fact, a blessing.

Speaking of the mechanic, as Thor walks around the roof, he sees him, standing close to the edge, peering into the abyss of twists and turns below him. The young god would usually leave him to his thoughts and privacy but the look on Tony's face is not contemplative, but troubled.

And so, he wanders over, quietly humming an ancient Asgardian tune, to relax both Tony and himself. He cannot lie, he is worried. Thor has seen this look before, been in this situation with the Avengers. At the end of a battle, with huge civilian losses, a woman climbed to the top of an old building. She had lost all of her family in this latest attack, and she saw no hope. The clean up was almost over, and so the police asked for an Avenger to catch her if she fell…or jumped. And she did. No amount of coaxing or gentle speaking convinced her, and Thor was only just in time to grab her before she hit the pavement. Applause surrounded them, but Thor could only hear the quiet and desperate "why?" she whispered. A woman so without hope that he felt ashamed of his own happiness when suffering such as this was in the world. His consolation? That woman is better now, and he sometimes goes to a shop for coffee to chat with her. She smiles a lot more now. So does he.

Now Thor thinks about it, he hasn't seen Tony smile in the time he's known him. Sure, there's the cocky bravado smirks he hands out like tickets, but not once has Thor seen a true smile that reached from his heart outward. Thor doesn't know if he can change that, but he does want the desolate expression on his young companion's face eradicated.

"Brother Stark? What troubles you this night?" he mutters quietly. His voice still carried in the wind though, so it may not have been as quiet as he thought. He is still not used to the timid ways of humanity, and he may never be.

Tony says nothing, does nothing, just keeps staring down or to somewhere Thor cannot reach - a distant memory, a troubled corner of his darkened mind. Thor was not truly expecting an answer, so when he received one, he tensed sharply, hand flexing as if to call his hammer.

Unbeknownst to the god, Tony had learned from his previous encounter with Natasha; he might not be able to hide his expression, but giving a coherent answer would distract them from seeing beyond Tony Stark, and hide Tony forever, because the thought horrifies him. If they truly knew what was underneath his skin, his broken shell of life…well, nothing good could come of it. So Tony responds.

"I sometimes think she was right y'know?"

Thor had been witness to the argument he and the Widow had had earlier that evening, when she called his foolish antics in front of the camera - again - selfish and detrimental. Though Thor might agree (might), her tone had been sharper than the blades she was fond of, but there was a fierce protectiveness there, as though Stark's actions were hurting only himself, and that was what was angering her.

"Man of Iron, the Widow was exhausted and battle-worn, as were we all. She did not mean to be to be so venomous, despite what her name alludes."

At this, Tony turns to look at Thor with a perplexed expression and a raised eyebrow, which changes to disappointment and lowered ones in a heartbeat. The Asgardian missed something, but what, he does not know.

Finally, he says "Yeah. Yeah, I guess so." He turns back to the skyline.

Thor caught very little in the gaze Tony gave him as he spoke, but he does not like what he saw. There is a distance, that makes Thor's thousands of years feel like days. Only days. He cannot name the emotion, nor can he empathise, but he can support.

"My friend, I know not what eclipses your mind so, but there is a saying on Asgard. Even the darkest of nights cannot dampen the heat of the warmest sands. Take comfort in that."

Tony smiles at this, but it is not the one he had hoped for. It is not light, and happy. It is cruel, and self-deprecating, and full of agony.

"Right."

His gaze is swept back, and there are tears in his eyes - barely - but there, in both his and Thor's.

He feels helpless to alleviate such a blackness in the Avenger's mind, so he does what he can. He grasps the man's shoulder, frowning at the severe flinch it causes, and looks deeply into his eyes.

"You are made of galaxies, and stars, and iron, my friend. Not your suit of metal, but you. Your very existence was formed in such odds we cannot calculate. The world is better for you being in it."

There is nothing more to say, he knows, but he cannot walk away from his friend and this night. So Tony walks away instead, one last glance over his shoulder at the ground below, almost longingly. Not for the first time, Thor is scared for the safety of his teammate.

And then, as quickly as it happened, it is over. Tony Stark is back (Thor had not realised he had gone until then) and full of movement, like an electrical current from his own Mjölnir is being passed through him, forbidding stillness.

He saunters over to the door back to the lift, and stops just before leaving. Thor only just catches what the man says.

"Y'know, I don't know what the weather's like back on your planet, but I always found deserts to be one of the coldest places in the world."

It is cryptic, and Thor knows he is not meant to decipher its meaning, but he does feel a shiver down his broad back all the same.

And then he is gone, back to tinker with his robotics and life.

Too late, Thor understands the first words Tony had said in their conversation. It was not Black Widow that Tony agreed with, it was that woman, the one they had almost lost.

Thor understand now, just a little, and he _aches _so badly it takes his breath away. Suddenly, the air out here isn't so clear anymore. And neither is the world.


	3. Chapter 3 - Clint

Apologies for the delay between chapters, had a million deadlines at uni, but here's the next chapter. Huge thanks for the reviews, favourites, and follows. More would be **massively** appreciated. Requests for who's next are welcome too.

CLINT

Clint Barton is different from the other Avengers. He knows it, they know it, and they move on. And sometimes he wants to be like them so much it's hilarious.

He'll never have Steve's super-strength, nor will he have the type of brain to create a machine that can fly like Tony. Even Natasha has skills of manipulation that Clint can't even hope to aspire to. So he's different. And that's alright. Because Clint Barton makes sure that what he does have, he uses to the very best ability he can. Of course, that was a part of his downfall during the whole Loki scenario. Maybe if he hadn't trained so hard, honed his skills to such an obsessive point…well, the first thoughts Clint has in the morning might not be an exact recitation of all 52 lives he ended on the helicarrier.

But his skills have also helped some in situations. For all of Bruce's power, Clint can notice a specific gap in the fighting and lead his teammates there. For all of Stark's pinpointing weaponry, it's Barton who can knock a bad guy out of the sky moving at impossible speeds. He knows very well that his position in the world is tenuous, and so he fights harder every day. His mind is his, his body is his, and he will fight until he has neither.

It's in the middle of a busy week when the call to assemble the Avengers is once again sent out. Clint is eating cereal in an air vent when JARVIS' voice speaks as if beside him.

"Mr. Barton, may I suggest you make your way to the armoury to retrieve your bow? Sir has noted an anomaly downtown that some kind of wolf like creatures are coming from."

Clint smirks and mutters "Who let the dogs out, huh?"

"Sir and yourself are frustratingly alike. I will send you the coordinates to the location presently."

Crawling expertly through the tower, he makes it in 1.2 minutes. A new record. Nice. After gearing up, he meets with the others and they're on their way in seconds. Steve is the consummate professional; giving orders to SHIELD agents, ensuring civilians are out of the area and prepping the Avengers. Clint mostly tunes it out because nothing is important but the mission now, but when he hears his name, he turns his head infinitesimally to listen.

"-and _don't _blow up half of the buildings in the block again, Iron Man. We could do without another PR disaster. Hawkeye, find a nest up top, I need eyes."

He nods as they approach the fight zone, and split up with deadly precision. Iron Man and Thor hover in the air, Captain America and Widow flank one another on the ground, Hulk…well he runs around angrily, and Clint parkours up a high enough building and sets up. He hears the creatures before he sees them, howling like banshees but when he does, he grimaces. These wolves aren't the only ones that can bite. He tests the air, readies his arrow, and fires. As soon as it hits (perfectly, of course), the wolves become more aggressive - the pack mentality must connect them more deeply than he thinks. After the first dog goes down, the battle is on.

On kill 276 (Stark's returning arrows are _extremely _useful), Hawkeye can see his teammates beginning to tire. Iron Man has been luring as many as he can to follow him, taking heavy hits in the process, and Captain America is breathing heavily. They can take more, but not much.

"Ow, shit, Hawkeye, you hear me?"

Stark's cry of pain is mildly concerning but there's nothing they can do right now, so he continues.

"Copy, Iron man. Report."

"There's a bigger dog, it's blue. Why there's a blue goddamn wolf in the middle of New York, I don't know, I mean, I knew there was a reason I didn't like mutts and they really smell bad when they're wet and-"

"Iron man. The blue wolf."

"Right. So it's being surrounded by the others, and I get the feeling it's the leader. Take it out, and see if we can get a Chitauri-falling-down repeat act, it's my favourite."

"Acknowledged."

Ok, finally, a target. Easy. It's far away, only a larger dot among many, _many _other dots but it's still an easy shot for the archer. And now Barton sees it, he agrees - it's definitely the leader. He takes a precision arrow from his quiver and steadies his breathing right down. He blocks out all sounds and focuses his entire universe between the eyes of the blue wolf.

Soon enough, the dead eyes of the blue wolf. It goes down pathetically, and all of the other dogs go down with it. Perfect mission.

"Nicely done, Hawkeye. Ok, Avengers, meet up at the call point. Cap out."

"Sure thing, Cap. Be right…there."

The others don't notice the hesitation in their exhaustion but Hawkeye hears Stark's pain. One of his skills. He looks around the sky like a bird of prey and panics when he doesn't see him. Then he sees movement on the ground. Stark is sitting on a pile of rubble breathing heavily. He takes out a grappling arrow and swings down to him as quickly as possible. He's about to ask where he's injured when the faceplate raises and he hears an "I'm fine, Barton."

He knows the contrary but the tone of his voice is quiet and tired and so he sits with him. It's only a few minutes, but the silence drags on before Clint looks at Tony again. He's looking down at his hands. They're red with blood, and Hawkeye curses himself for not noticing, but they're so red, they match the suit. He wants to push Stark toward medical, and intends to whether he has to drag him or not, but when he glares at Stark, his words die in his mouth.

Stark is staring at the blood, blinking in perfect synchronisation with the drip drip drip as it hits the ground. There's no sign of concussion, but he's never really known Stark to be quiet for so long, and he's worried. His eyes show no sign of physical pain, either; the tells are easy, pinched features, biting his lip, countless others depending on severity (grumbling about the legitimacy his parentage if it's paper cut bad, or looking at him tiredly and smiling if it's "Oh my god, fuck, we need medical 10 minutes ago! Stay with us, Stark, c'mon, don't you do this, not now, don't do this". And there's been too many of _them, _thank you very much.) But there is pain. So he stays beside him, an unmoving constant in the flurry of Stark's constant life. Stark's pain is like his own; a deep pain, vulnerable, and unending, and honestly, Barton didn't know Tony had it in him. But there's nothing like it, and only others who've felt the same can see it. He's beginning to brood his own dark history when Iron Man, pillar of strength and symbol of stability, says only a few words that shake his core.

"Hawkeye, will you shoot me in the chest with one of your arrows?"

It's out the blue, it's asked so casually, it's _horrifying_, and he goes green at the prospect. He swallows back vomit he knows his body wants to get rid of, like the thoughts running through his mind now. He compares the feeling to the realisation that when you were a kid, the adults you looked up to weren't as impregnable as you thought. It's not the same though, this is worse. What he's been asked is worse.

He turns his head to see Stark's face - his alive face, he reminds himself - and finds an intense gaze directed back at him. There's a 'please' in his eyes and _shit, _Tony is entirely serious, and **_shit_**, Clint is entirely terrified. Tony must see it because he gives a bitter smirk, and looks back down at his hands, his gaze going distant again. He needs to pull him out of this, and they need to meet up with the other Avengers.

He doesn't know what to say to heal this hurt. This is beyond "oh my god, fuck" stage.

He struggles for words, but again, Tony preempts him. He shake his head once, stands up and stretches, groaning in pain and exhaustion, but as perfect an image of 'fine'-ness as he's ever seen. He's smiling lazily (it reminds him of the deep hurt smile), and testing the joints of the suit. Hawkeye stands with him. They're overdue back, and his comm, turned down, is buzzing with 'where are you dammit?' and 'sound off, Hawkeye!'. He turns between their destination and Stark's face in indecision.

Iron Man grins, pats him on the back, and starts walking.

"C'mon Birdbrain, last one there has to clean up the dog's mess. You up for some Shawarma?"

They both pretend not to hear the quiver in his voice, and Clint doesn't trust himself to reply without choking up, so they walk in silence after Clint replies.

"Only if we go to medical first. That nurse has the hots for me." They both know there's no nurse, and Clint tries to convey as much warmth and concern as he can in the words.

They don't speak about it again.

It's only later, after Clint is back in his tunnels (and if he's conveniently near Tony's room in case of emergency, well, that's between him and the darkness), having negotiated with JARVIS to "for god's sake, lock down that armoury when he gets like this" and hidden his own arrows firmly away, that he lets himself think about what's happened.

He's trying to figure out what happened, how he was triggered into…whatever the hell that was when he realises what Stark saw. He's never been one for metaphors but all that blood on Tony's hands? And knowing now his thought process? The guilt must be eating him up. He has red in his ledger, like Tasha, like himself, and he watches it grow. Those 52 lives he stole that day, they're there, always haunting him, a penance for the life he lives now. How many haunt Tony Stark? How many have turned him into a ghost alongside them?

Yep, Clint Barton is different from the other Avengers. He knows it, they know it, and they move on.

But now he's not so sure he wants to be like all of them, and it's really not funny in the slightest.


	4. Chapter 4 - Bruce

Ok so I was waiting to write and post a new chapter when I reached, 100 favourites I've now surpassed that which probably isn't that big but still means a huge amount to me. So **THANK YOU**! I'll try to update more soon.

Please, please, please continue to show the support you have and favourite this if you enjoy it! I'm really not sure about this chapter so please tell me what you think in a review, and oh yeah, obviously Cap'll be next.

This chapter was kind of inspired by the interview RDJ recently had during the AOU press tour where he walked out because of the dumb-ass reporter. RDJ's face is kinda what I'm aiming for here. Some swearing.

Anyway, without further ado…

BRUCE

If there's anyone in this damn world that knows what pain, and guilt, and suffering is like, it's Bruce Banner. He doesn't know if he'll ever be able to atone for what he's done, and the bullet _he_ spat out just goes to show that he doesn't get to finish yet, whether he wants to or not. And he really wants to. He's trying though, really. It's about who he can save now, not the ones he couldn't. Didn't. It'll never stop the nightmares, he knows that. But it might make the other guy a little less part of them.

He fights with the Avengers when needed, but he's a scientist first and foremost, it's what got him into this mess. And the labs Tony gave him when he reluctantly moved in (when Hawkeye finally told him to unpack that duffel bag he hides under his bag, ready to leave in a moment's notice) really helps with scientific developments for third world countries. Water filters at a fraction of the price, lights that are entirely self-sustaining. He feels like he's making a difference. And Tony also bankrolls these developments happily - "Honestly, Brucey, that money was going on booze or another suit (Gucci, not Iron), I don't mind" - so he'll never stop being grateful. But it's not money, or resources that Tony's given him, not really. It's a chance.

Tony likes to join him in the labs, often giving him a tip on what he's developing - "hey, big green, not to butt in, but if you change that variable, those lights could shine 15.63% brighter" - and being a general presence in his once isolated life. Bruce suspects that that's completely on purpose. Very few see Selfless Tony, not because he isn't there, but because they choose not to. Having a figure they love to hate is too gratifying. Sometimes Bruce can't choose between what he hates more; his own monster, or that dark, unforgiving monster that is the judging public media.

It's the latter that shows Bruce the side of Tony he'd suspected was there, since seeing the admission to his suicide attempt on the helicarrier. Tony's eyes had flashed with panic and undetectable emotion before the mask returned. He didn't want to know, he really didn't, didn't want to see that suffering in someone else, but now he has no choice.

They've been working for hours, caught up in breakthroughs and equations and numbers, when JARVIS' voice breaks the comfortable silence as a screen flashes up.

"Sir, the interview you conducted, the one you ordered deleted everywhere, has been leaked online. It is now on several media channels including CNN, FOX, ABC, C9 and-"

"JARVIS, I get it, get it off. Take it down. NOW!"

Tony's suddenly raised voice makes Bruce flinch violently, having to assure Hulk that no, there's no threat in Tony, _you know that_. It's Tony that looks close to hulking out though. His breaths are heaving, he's hunched over his workstation, and his face is livid - dangerously, murderously livid.

"Tony…are…are you okay?"

Bruce's platitudes go ignored as Tony and his creation start an intense discussion.

"Where the HELL did they get it?! We purged it EVERYWHERE, _didn't we, JARVIS?" _

Tony's voice took on a terrifying tone, for the first time directed towards his own creation, a spectacle Bruce never thought he'd hear. But JARVIS was unfazed, in fact his own tone was frantic, and apologetic.

"We did, sir. I do not know how this happened. I had no trace of any signature matching that of the interview, not until some of AIM's files were 'leaked' from their private server and-"

"_AIM _did this?! I have the most advanced AI in the universe, and fucking AIM got a hold of the footage? GREAT!"

"It would appear so, sir. I am sorry, I did check every branch that had access. I can only assume we have a mole in SI. I will begin scanning now."

"Thanks, J. Sorry…I'm sorry, it isn't your fault. I didn't mean to shout. Can we at least get it taken down again, block the channels?"

"No need to apologise, I understand completely. And it would appear not…we are being blocked somehow. I cannot turn it off."

"…what? No, no they can't see. No, Bruce can't…"

Finally, Tony glances back to Bruce and suddenly his anger has morphed into panic. He's gripping the desk hard enough to turn his skin pale white, to match his rapidly draining face. Bruce reaches towards him to comfort and this time it's Tony's turn to flinch away, backing up and shaking his head frantically.

"Tony, hey, hey, hey Tony, you're ok. Are you with me? Stay with me, we're at the Tower, remember?"

"Yeah, I know, Bruce, I'm fine. I'm fine. Shit, ok, don't hate me, in fact don't even watch this, just ignore it, keep working, or better yet, let's go out, huh? Yeah, no that won't work, paparazzi. Maybe we can-"

"Tony, it's ok, sit down, we're ok, sit down."

"Yeah…yeah, ok."

Defeated, Tony's whole demeanour changes and he almost collapses into his chair. They sit in silence until he flinches and smacks his hand on the table.

"SHIT! Shit…"

His hand is bleeding where his hand smashed on a beaker, and bruce gently approaches with a first aid kit (always on hand), but Tony doesn't even notice. He's watching the hologram now, anguish clear on his face. As much as Bruce tries to drown it out, the interviewer's voice permeates the white noise he's filling his head with.

"…so, Mr. Stark, we've spoken about the Avengers, I wonder if we can move to some more…personal questions?"

"Uh, sure, I guess, you've got as much time as anyone else haha…"

On the screen, Tony rubs the back of his neck in an obvious sign of discomfort, one ignored completely by his interrogator (because, really, what else can you call it? Raza and the freaking Ten Rings weren't as bad).

"We know that you're now a part of an alleged peacekeeping organisation, you've made that clear, but in your past, you were a proficient arms dealer, yes?"

"Yeah, you know I was…sorry, what's the relevance here?"

"Oh I'm getting to that, believe me. And during your imprisonment, you were tortured and forced to build weapons, yes?"

"Well, sort of. I was made to, but I didn't, I built Iron Man. This is really widely known, why are we going over this?"

On-screen Tony looks positively wild now, but the Tony with him is resigned and defeated, two words that do _not _go alongside billionaire, playboy or philanthropist.

"Ah, yes, and you built Iron Man alone?"

"Um, no, there was another person captured and-"

"Another person? That makes it sound so impersonal, does it not? He and yourself became quite close during those months, is that correct? You and…Yinsen, is it?"

The interviewer deliberately mispronounced it, it's obvious, but Tony didn't even notice during the interview. His mind went back to scorching heat, and debilitating cold. To fire, and blood, and the empty eyes of the one person he called his friend at that time.

Bruce is watching him carefully. His gaze goes from the person questioning him to somewhere off-screen, and he's back there, he can see it, and the interviewer can't touch that place. It's in his mind. But the problem is he's also trapped there. He's unresponsive, and the interviewer asks him question after question, about Yinsen ("did you kill him, Mr. Stark? Was it all an elaborate cover-up?"), about the weeks after ("Obadiah Stane, like a father to you. And yet you killed him, too. Is there no end to the lives you've ended?"), about anything.

On-screen Tony remains out of it for at least five minutes, and the person asking him questions is now just trying to get him to answer at all. The stare is eerie, and there's a close up on his face, only highlighting the blank wall in his eyes. Finally, he snaps out of it and shakes himself, before grinning his trademark grin and walking out of the room. Before he goes, they ask one more question.

"Mr. Stark, what on Earth happened there?!"

Without turning around the camera captures a single laugh and he quietly says,

"Sorry. You were boring me."

And that's that. It's explained away, it's nothing, and the media are fooled. The headlines read not that there was an insensitive interviewer who asked questions not only irrelevant but inappropriate, but that Arrogant Tony Stark Refuses To Answer In Yet Another Childish Stunt. Bruce has gone so far beyond furious, he's deadly calm again. Just as well; a Hulk-out right now would be good for no one, despite the Hulk-proof room.

He's sitting mid bandage-wrapping with his mouth hanging open in pure shock. He just can't understand. And he wonders, have any of the other Avengers seen this side of him? He's noticed Thor shadowing Tony anytime he goes to walk out on the balcony alone, and he knows he can hear Clint scuffling around in the vents heading towards the workshop. Natasha, well she's always cold, but maybe he's seen her defrost a little for Tony. Bruce feels like he's been blind and can see again, but he really doesn't like the view.

"Thank God…"

Tony's voice brings him back to here and now, and he's dumbfounded.

"Thank god?! Tony, were you watching the same thing as me? Did you see what that stupid idiot was asking you?"

"Yeah, Bruce, I was _there, _y'know. Well, for some of it, at least… I mean thank god they didn't _see_."

Apparently, Bruce's ability to speak has done an Elvis and left the building, because he cannot say a word. Not one. He gets it, though.

Better to be painted the villain than see the cracked canvas of a hero underneath.

Tony just looks so _sad. _He knows a thousand better words for it in a thousand other languages but right now, Bruce can't see anything but sad. He's smiling but there's no happiness in it, he's exhausted with the pretence. And why wouldn't he be? He's dealt with this all his life, from the youngest age. Bruce, at least, had some semblance of a normal life before all this, but Tony? He's always under the spotlight and it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. They're vultures and Tony has been pecked away to bones, and no amount of armour can protect against that kind of attack.

"Ok, JARVIS, can we purge it now? And find out where they got Yinsen's name. They do not get to use him like that, you hear me?"

"Yes, Sir. Ready on your word."

"Go for it, J. And, hey, while you're at it, y'know that incriminating footage we keep of the CEO's of those stations… it'd be a shame if someone were to anonymously release it, right?"

"Indeed, sir. A terrible shame."

Beyond marvelling at the _highly_ advanced sarcasm coding Tony has encrypted into JARVIS' workings, Bruce is at a loss.

Tony simply holds his now covered hand close to his chest and goes back to his corner, to grab his things and leave as swiftly as he can. Instead of the bounding puppy full of energy and zeal, he's acting like a kicked and traumatised one, untrusting with its tail firmly between its legs. It's heartbreaking to see his friend like this.

Honestly, Bruce is overwhelmed. The Hulk is confused, too, muttering quietly in the recesses of his busy head. So much information has passed through Bruce's mind in a short space of time and one question is running around unbidden. How could Tony come through all of this and still be…Tony? He wants to ask that very thing but a different question leaves his mouth.

"Tony…who's Yinsen?"

Tony's hands pause in their gathering and eyes briefly meet his before they drop again. Shielded, desperate eyes that _scream _RUN AWAY.

"Yinsen was…Yinsen was good."

The '_and I never will be_' isn't missed by Bruce. It shouldn't be there at all, but it's clear as day.

And, oh, _oh… _if there's anyone in this damn world that knows what pain, and guilt, and suffering is like, it's Tony Stark.


	5. Chapter 5 - Steve

SO SORRY ABOUT THAT MASSIV GLITCH EVERYONE, IDK WHAT IT WAS

160+ favourites, you crazy things, you. Almost finished this story, just my +1 left, I'm very sad it's ending. :(((( In the meantime, enjoy. And thanks again for all the support. Also, watch out for the wee Star Trek Reboot easter egg reference in this chapter.

STEVE

Time is a strange and relative thing for Steve Rogers. Well, it is for everyone, really, but especially him. He splits up the big bits of time in his life into Before and After. He needs the distinction or he knows he'll go insane. Before was his past, full of love and fear and purpose, then there was 70 years of nothing, and After is now. Where time seems to have sped up and everyone seems to rush around as if the world's going to end tomorrow. Thing is, he's kind of scared it will.

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. TicktockticktocktickTOCK._

Steve really couldn't be any more proud of his team, of being the leader of his little team, of being _accepted _by his team. The Avengers have taught him a lot; how to try and live in the world he's in now, how to say 'Stark, I swear to God!' in Russian and 'you're my family' without saying anything at all. At some point, he finds the emptiness of a life without everyone he's ever known filled with the rich smells of Bruce's cooking, and laughter, and random pieces of machinery and something else, something intangible. He doesn't know when or how it happened. It's totally crept up on him.

He loves it.

He does his best to help his Avengers in return. When Bruce walks past with a frown on his face, and an equation in his eyes, Steve makes him lunch and speaks gently about nothing in particular to ease the doctor's stress. When Thor is bamboozled by a Midgard custom or object, Steve shares his confusion and together, they work through the crippling fear that they don't fit in this world. He doesn't like to think about it but says something that Steve struggles as much on Earth as an alien. When SHIELD is being difficult about allowing their 'loose cannon' be a part of the team, he marches down there with his own shield and tells it plainly, "If Clint isn't in the Avengers, neither am I". That always works. He's not sure he's completely worth the ultimatum. When Natasha comes back from a particularly bad mission, he offers a spar session with nothing but a look. And he doesn't hold back, because that's what she needs. There's blood, and sometimes broken bones, but by the end of it, she's always breathing harder yet easier; sweating but not crying (though she would eviscerate anyone who started a rumour that she was even able to outside of the job). With Tony, he's at a bit of a loss. His watch beeps every fews hours to remind him to check on Tony, make sure he's sleeping and eating, but sometimes he doesn't need a reminder; he's already there, sketching, watching a movie or watching the inventor 'create instead of destroy' according to the man himself.

There's something weird about Tony, though. Like when a video on the internet is half a second out of sync; you hardly notice it, but it's there, and you know something isn't right. The problem is, for all his tinkering and building, Steve isn't sure Tony knows how to fix himself. He might be out of touch, but he isn't stupid; he's seen the others eyeing Tony in their peripheral vision, waiting for something. He just doesn't know what it is. Which frustrates him. Which then causes arguments between himself and Tony. Inevitably.

It is universally agreed that Tony Stark is _not _easy to get on with. He's brash, and loud, and the epitome of the modern world. He speaks without thinking most of the time and thinks without speaking even more. And it's that, the fact the Steve just can't get past the wall that's been put up, that gets to him. He's the leader of the team; he needs to know things like this. Back Before, when one of his Commandos had a problem, they'd either come to him about it or be easy enough to read that he could fix it anyway. But Stark puts up a maze of bright lights and complicated technology - complicated smiles - that he can't find a way around. Sure, Steve isn't a whole lot better; when he comes in from a run on a snowy day, his eyes are just as stormy and he wants nothing more than to forget everything. But at least he works through it. Hell, even Howard shared his thoughts far more frequently than Tony, and they weren't anywhere near as close. It all comes to a head one day when Steve is fed up and being refused entry from the 'shop. He's standing outside the glass walls, hands on his hips, listening to the play-by-play and losing tolerance.

_Tick. Tock._

"JARVIS, do NOT let him in."

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm afraid I can't do that."

"This is NOT the time to go all HAL-9000 or Skynet or any other evil AI on me, I have had the worst day and my AI turning on me is-"

"Excuse me, sir, I meant that I literally can't do that. Captain Rogers has entered his override code."

"…oh. Well, don't think I don't know you did that on purpose. I'm still changing your code so that particle phrase is gone from your vocabulary system."

"Of course, sir." The indulgently amused tone of the bastard.

Steve walks in with purpose, unaided by the computer, yet still thanks JARVIS for his help. Traitor.

Tony purses his lips unhappily; yet another person who clearly prefers creation over creator. And they feeling is clearly mutual. Damn, what does it say about him that the very being he created, gave birth to even, with a base protocol to protect its creator, likes the super soldier better than him - and isn't that bringing back warm fuzzy memories of his childhood. It's so fucking lame that he can almost convince himself it doesn't hurt.

Steve, though, Steve doesn't think about this at all. He's just looking for an argument. Or a resolution _to _an argument so they can get on with doing what they do best. Out on the field, they couldn't be better; they synchronise flawlessly and get on incredibly well. Iron Man and Captain America have become steadfast, if unexpected, friends. Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, on the other hand…

He isn't sure what to say so he says nothing. Just picks at his fingernails. It's a bad habit, one he shows when he's nervous. Natasha scoffs at him for such easy tells and makes him a cup of tea to soothe him. She's always been fire and ice in one fluid form.

Tony eventually gets frustrated and looks up from his plans, raising a trademark eyebrow.

"Look, Cap, is this Avengers business, or are you here to work me over. Again. Because I gotta tell you, I came down here with a cup of coffee and very little patience. I'm all out of coffee and am quickly running out of the patience part. What is it you want?"

There; that's the problem right there - Tony is so arrogant, so rude sometimes that Steve is at a loss. But not right now.

"Fine, Tony, we need to sort this out. You are my friend but I am fed up of having to keep my guard up around you, I do enough of that on the field. You gave us a home here at the tower but you still come across as some kind of stranger sometimes. I mean, is it me? I know you and your Dad didn't get on great but in case you haven't noticed, I'm not him, and believe me, I've noticed _you're _not him!"

Steve's voice steadily rose until it was now clearly shouting. But even the loudest sound couldn't match the deafening quiet of Tony's voice as he spoke.

_"And what is that supposed to mean, _Captain_?"_

They look at each other for an infinite moment (only 7.634 seconds, according to JARVIS when Steve goes back to watch the footage of the argument afterwards to see how he could have got it so, _so_ wrong), fire battling ice more than Natasha could ever know.

Steve knows he's crossed a line, like a cut from a razor blade, so sharp and straight, you don't even notice until you're bleeding out on the ground. He has to backpedal, or move forward, or _something_, but he feels trapped in a cage with a wild animal. Entirely unpredictable and _extremely _dangerous when provoked. Finally, like the moment you hold your breath before a dramatic movie moment or jumping from a plane (without a parachute, yes, he knows, shut up), Steve breaks the silence.

"It _means _that I have had enough of this. Trust and communication are essential and they work both ways. It's not like we're just work colleagues. I rely on you to have my back in the field, and you do, don't get me wrong, but do you not get that living in this world is just another battlefield for me?!

"I mean, darn, Tony, I come down here and I _try _to understand, to listen when you talk about some fancy new piece of equipment you've made but I. Am. Lost. The others, Natasha and Clint and Bruce, heck, even Thor, they're trying to help me acclimatise to this godforsaken world that I do not know but you! You have no time for us. I'm at the bottom of the chain, right? You act as if I'm a nuisance. Is that it? You don't want me here? I bet you'd rather I never came out of the ice in the first place. Or maybe, you'd rather I mess up and GET MYSELF KILLED IN THE NEXT BATTLE, WOULD THAT BE BETTER?"

It's a brutal and killing blow. Jugular ripped out, Dead On Arrival, flatline killing blow. Tony recoils so sharply it's like he's been shot, so much so that Steve spins and looks for an assailant. He doesn't find one. He can't fully comprehend that he's the one that pulled the trigger. He doesn't even understand what he's done.

But clearly it's something distressing. All of the colour drains from Tony's face, leaving him pale and shivering and ruined. He staggers backwards and falls into his stool with unsteady legs and just _stops._

It's like a clock in a room. At first the new sound is at the forefront of your attention; and it quickly becomes annoying. Then, you get so used to the ticking that you don't hear it at all, it's a constant part of your life. But when the battery runs out and the ticking is gone, it's a disconcerting and horrible jolt of feeling _wrong. _

_Tick._

_Tock._

_Tick-_

"Tony? What's wrong? Tony? Stark, answer me!"

He's shaking his shoulders franticly, enough to leave light bruises but that would be fine so long as Tony _answered him. _But he isn't. He can't.

Steve finds what the others keep looking for in Tony's face. Why did he have to keep pushing? He looks so wrecked, and his eyes are carrying a thousand lives' worth of misery and pain and exhaustion. The mask has been ripped off, taking a part of Tony with it, and Steve can't believe he never saw there was one to begin with.

"JARVIS, please, what's happening, get one of the others, I need to-"

"The _others _have already dealt with this particular side of Sir. The only thing you _need_ is to do right now is the same. Be patient, Captain Rogers. But let it be known; as much as he jokes of my similarities to my cinematic AI cousins, I have the capabilities to neutralise any threats I see to the health and wellbeing of my creator and I will enforce those capabilities if the need arises. Do not test me. You will lose."

A nervous swallow enters his throat and an "understood" leaves it.

He takes the time between whatever _this_ is to ruminate on the words that passed between them. He knows he is right about one thing. Tony really isn't like Howard. Had it been the elder in a fight with Steve, it would've escalated until both were bloody and furious. And Howard would've been _cruel_.

He pulls up a stool opposite Tony and studies his face. For the first time, he looks at the differences between the two Starks he's known instead of the similarities. He _really _looks at him. Tony has a few wrinkles, but they're warm, laugh lines and concentration lines and lines that tell a story no one knows. There's small scars and burns that show not that he fell, but that he got back up again with a vengeance. He is Tony. The Stark has nothing to do with it.

He's seriously considering a doctor now. JARVIS told him to wait so he'll wait but it's been an hour and Tony hasn't changed, hasn't blinked. Steve puts a hand on his chest to reassure them both that one thing he has done is breathe.

It goes on, and even JARVIS is making concerned noises. Steve starts pacing again, as if that will fix everything.

"5 more minutes, JARVIS. I know what you said but this? This is beyond…whatever it is, something is _wrong._ 5 more minutes and I'm phoning Pepper, I can't just-"

"Don't. You. _Dare_."

It doesn't come from the speakers like he expects but from the man on the stool. Steve rushes over and sits back down slowly.

"Ok. Ok, Tony I won't phone her, but you were _unresponsive _for around-"

"_No. _Don't you dare."

"What, Tony, I don't understand. Look, let me get Bruce to check you over."

Tony holds him still with a vacant look.

"Don't you for one _second _think that there is _anything _I would put above you or the others. That chain you were talking about? There is no bottom. You are the only links _in_ the fucking chain. You are all that matters. If you _ever _believe that anything resulting in any of your deaths would be the better outcome, I'll be on your back in the afterlife straight after because I am nothing without this, without what I have with the Avengers. I'm barely holding on as it is. I suck at this team thing, I know. Hell, I'll leave before I make you leave. But I'm making an effort too. Just…just don't talk about yourself like that, even in an argument, ok? Please, I know I don't deserve a favour right now but please just…don't. I'm not like my father, I know, but we did agree on one thing. Giving up on you is not an option."

Steve's whole equilibrium is turned upside down. When what you think you know is entirely different, that tends to be the outcome.

"Look…I'm gonna go to bed. Get a scotch or ten, then go to bed. Uh, you're the last, I guess. The others, they've all…seen that. Sorry about that, by the way. I keep hoping it'll go away, but so far, nada, haha…so, um, can we just move on or something? Truce?"

Steve has never seen this nervous, hesitant side before, but at least he's not lost for words.

"More than a truce, Tony. Thank you…for letting me see you. For trusting me."

Tony rubs the back of his neck and looks down.

"Uh, yeah, no problem. Night, Steve…"

This is the first time he's ever called Steve by his first name. Up until now, he'd thought it'd been out of dislike, or disrespect at least. But it was always trust.

"Night, Tony."

Tony leaves and Steve goes to follow to his own bed when JARVIS stops him.

"If you have a minute, Captain?"

"Sure, go ahead."

Blue holograms surround him, files and files of Avengers details. Not about missions, but about the Avengers specifically. There is thousands of names of private operatives ready to pull Natasha or Clint out of a mission if their life is truly in danger and they can't get out themselves. He recognises some of them, and knows SHIELD has _no_ idea. Tony has been researching magic, talking to the experts, contacting a recluse he's never head of called Dr. Strange to make sure that Thor is protected while here on Earth. There are protocols in place for Bruce and the Other Guy to keep civilians safe, and contingency plans for if (when) he decides to run away to some corner of the world again. Bruce may not know it, but he will be looked after. There's something for Steve there, but JARVIS won't let him see it, because "Sir is still working on it." That's ok.

But he's not. He feels lousier than he ever has before. He tries to look after his team, his family, but all this time they've been looking after him. Some leader. He goes to bed, but sleep never comes. He never expected it to anyway.

It's later, or early, he supposes, when Steve hears a beep indicating a message on a tablet Tony gave him, and finds it's from the man himself. It's the file he couldn't access before. 'So you don't feel so lost anymore. Here's a map. If you need help, you _can_ ask. T.' with a huge attachment filled with history and current affairs. The file is told from a person's perspective, though, not just cold, hard, terrifying facts that leave Steve sweating at night. Everyone gives Steve what they think he needs, but they never take the time to ask him what he actually wants. Somehow, Tony doesn't need to. He just knows.

He's a man out of time; it makes sense for him to be a bit off-course. Steve kind of wants to make a map for Tony. Steve can say all he likes about being a man out of time; he's just worried he's running out of it. He's terrified Tony won't find his way in enough time to save himself.

_Tick._

_Tock._

_Tick-_


	6. Chapter 6 - Tony

It's been a long time without updates out of sheer laziness and a hesitance to finish what has become my favourite story so far. Look out for more Avengers fictions from me in future but for now, thanks for being on the journey with Tony &amp; I.

TONY

Tony's life has always come down to choices.

It started when he was very young. His father decided the tiny robot - nothing more than a 'dummy' - that aged 4 Tony made was of no worth; not when there was weapon blueprints he needed drawn up. (Genius.) So little Tony had to choose - appease his father. Or defy him and (hopefully) live with the consequences. He never did see that robot again. (Well, not until years later, when Tony was designing his workshop and needed robotic assistants. If it was a slightly bigger replica and had the same name, well…).

The next time Tony had a big choice was at 14. He was going off to college, the child protége of the famous Stark family; of course everyone wanted to know him. He felt content. He drank and was merry until he drank too much - and he learned he didn't have a choice in everything, not when he said no. So next time, every time, he was going to say yes. It ended up hurting less. Well, physically at least. (Playboy.)

Then of course, came Afghanistan. He became incredibly rich through all the wrong ways (Billionaire). So he made a choice to always do the right thing in future. And that one…that one hurt the most. Take now, for example.

It was a normal mission. Well, as normal as a giant explosive spitting three-headed snake tearing through Manhattan can be. Then it all went to shit. Again. Tony, usually the fastest and the one with the eyes everywhere was asked by Cap to rescue the civilians trapped in a building that was about to fall down. He was on is way there as fast as he could be, really he was, and then his sensors picked up an explosion by a school with potential casualties. Tony had seconds to decide and no time to communicate. He got those kids from the school away and safe. And he made it back to the building just in time. He saved 27 people. There were 29 inside. Because he couldn't be faster, better, just _think _a bit more, 2 people died on his watch. Tony always makes choices. He always chooses the wrong one.

So here he is, post-mission. He missed the debrief, of course. The others probably thought he was too impatient to sit through it but he can't sit in that room with these heroes, these people that do good, that he looks up to with everything he has, and try to justify the reason he lost 2 people. So he's sitting on a cliff outside of the city watching the sun go down over the ocean. It's peaceful. He can think here. Think about all the mistakes he makes. All those wrong fucking choices. Why can't he just be _good? _He's _trying._ It's just never enough.

"Sir…after the events of today, I don't believe you should be out alone currently and you already have several missed calls from all of your teammates who are quite-"

"JARVIS, I don't want to be interrupted by angry Avengers, but thanks."

"Actually Sir, if I may-"

"JARVIS."

His AI pauses and then quietly begins again. "It was not your fault, Sir. You were not to-"

"Mute."

He can't hear empty platitudes right now. Not when empty eyes of those bodies he had to pull from the rubble himself are haunting him. He doesn't even know their names. God, he's going to be sick. Tony just wants to understand. For all of his genius, he can't figure this thing out. He's got all the numbers, the algorithms, and yet, he doesn't know why or how he keeps fucking up. He needs to understand. All he knows is there's a common denominator to everyone's problems and it's him. It's so frustrating.

He takes off his helmet to get away from JARVIS's nonverbal but visual reminders that his responsibilities in the form of medical and avengers are waiting for him. And of course, the sunset looks 5 times better outside the helmet. The helmet's thrown to the side where he can't see it; so he doesn't have to stare into emotionless slits where eyes should be and wonder too closely if art imitates life or if it's the other way around. It's not helping. How can it? It's not the suit that's heartless. If anyone is a better representation of a man with an empty chest, it's him. He can't give love when he's loveless.

Tony grabs his hair in his hands and _pulls. _He'll get the answer; he has to. It hurts now, he's pulling so hard. _Good. _He doesn't stop pulling. He hasn't self harmed in a long time. Not since Rhodey grabbed him by the scruff and begged him to stop. He said it was out of worry, that "Please, Tony, you're scarin' me here. You're gonna kill yourself man, I can't lose you, ok? I won't." Can't have the company face a suicide scandal right? And without Tony, where was the military gonna get the best weaponry from? Rhodey's his best friend but he's not naive enough to believe that he's Rhodey's. He doesn't play well with others, right?

He's tired of trying to fight when all he wants to do is fly. And not with the suit either. How easy it would be to just step out of the suit fall from the cliff and fly for a little while. And then at the bottom…well, he's not going to heaven, anyway. He's standing on the precipice now; so very near. The electronic joints lock up; JARVIS holding him back again. He's not getting any further and he knows it. He wasn't going to anyway; that's the easy thing to do. Which is why he can't.

He's got issues, he knows it. Hell, they all know now. He zones out. He just needs an escape sometimes. He's looked it up; he knows he's fucked up in the head but at least now he has confirmation; that thousand yard fucking stare. More like a million yards. With a million more to go. It's a losing battle, he knows. Tony feels like the weight of the universe is on his shoulders, never mind the world. He's seen more of it than most, anyway. It's all so meaningless.

He isn't sure why he does this anyway. Thor can fly; he's wise and friendly. Natasha; she has more skill than he's ever seen. She's managed to turn her horrific childhood into something good. Why can't he? Bruce and Clint; they feel like outsiders, like they don't belong, and yet they fit so much better into this band of brothers than he could ever hope to. And Steve…Steve is the human embodiment of rightness and pureness. There's no jigsaw piece Tony fits into. He wants to stop. Everything. But he can't.

Sighing deeply, he stands up and grabs his helmet.

"How long this time, JARVIS?"

"…two hours, Sir. I was becoming close to initiating protocol BETA6 and contacting the Captain; he and the others have become quite frantic."

"Two hours, huh? New record. Go me. Patch him through. Can't get his stars and strips boxers in a twist."

"Of course."

While he waits for the call, he looks out over the ocean again. It's dark now, the sun merging with horizon at some point during his zone out. The water looks cold and unforgiving, and so so inviting. It's chaotic and it's stronger than him. Like everything else. One step, that's all. He could give in, he could-

"Tony?!"

-he could answer the phone.

"Here, Cap."

"Tony, thank god." In the background, he hears what he's potentially mishearing as relieved voices from his teammates shouting his name. "Are you alright? You left right after the mission, are you hurt? Do you need Bruce?"

"I'm fine. Sorry. About the mission, I mean."

"About the…? Oh, Tony…" Steve sounds so sad for him and now he's just plain confused.

"Look, just come _home_, huh? It's movie night and it's your turn to pick. We're all waiting for you, Shellhead."

"On my way."

Helmet back on and secured, he prepares to fly, but pauses.

"Shall we keep going, Sir?"

Tony knows he means with more than the preflight checks. He reacts. He breathes in the clear air. He laughs. He takes his pain and hides it once more. He wastes no more time. Because Tony's life comes down to choices.

"Yeah, Jarvis. I'll keep going."


End file.
